


you're in the the light

by betweenforever (asukaflying)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood, Car Accidents, Gen, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asukaflying/pseuds/betweenforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun doesn't know why Minseok sticks around</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're in the the light

**Author's Note:**

> raison d'être: because Marilyn Manson made me do it.  
> [poster](http://asukaflying.tumblr.com/post/114846491927)

Sehun washes his hands when he comes in from outside.  
  
He remembers the colour of the sky, looking up from the ground, cold asphalt at his back, a warm spot near his chest. He remembers that it was blue. He remembers that his fingers where stickly as he held them up to the sun and saw the lightest tracing of veins through the skin.  
  
They didn't let him wash his hands until after they put him back together again.  
  
"You're hands aren't dirty," Minseok says, trailing after Sehun into the bathroom at school. Sehun's just come from unloading his backpack into his locker, a new day of school just beginning. After this it's homeroom.  
  
"I want to wash my hands," he says simply, lathering them thickly with soap and sluicing the white suds off with hot water. His hands are clean when he's finally done, and a little dry, but that's okay.  
  
Sticky wet hands with red on them.  
  
"I have some hand lotion . . . ?" Minseok offers, his grin unsure. Sehun doesn't like that expression. He likes the at turns serious, at turns grinning and almost strangely childlike senior. Four years older than him, he doesn't understand why, after being assigned to show the mid-year freshman transfer around, Minseok stays.  
  
His hands closing around empty air.  
  
"No thanks," Sehun says, trying to hide a grimace at the thought of coating his hands with something when he's just cleaned them, but he flashes a rare grin at Minseok to make up for it, and is rewarded when a happy smile blooms over his features.  
  
Minseok walks along with him, they chat about this and that and comic books and superhero movies, even though Sehun knows that Minseok went to see the latest Palme d'Or hopeful at the art cinema last weekend because he heard him and his Beijing-transplant classmate talking about it. He feels strangely flattered.  
  
"Bye!" Minseok waves him off at the door, heading with quickened steps up the two flights of stairs to his own class. Sehun is still expecting Minseok to figure out that walking with him puts him at a serious risk of being late, but so far Minseok hasn't seemed to grasp the concept. Maybe he doesn't want to.  
  
"Who's that senior who always walks you to the door?" Zitao, another Chinese transfer student, asks as Sehun flops into his desk and lets his bookbag fall onto the ground.  
  
"Minseok," Sehun says.  
  
"He's so cute," Zitao goes on, and Sehun can almost see the hearts forming in his eyes before he flicks Zitao on the nose.  
  
"He's mine, " he retorts, and Zitao spends the rest of British Lit sending sad sulky glares at Sehun over the cover of his copy of Middlemarch, but Sehun doesn't care. Zitao has a proper crush on Yixing, the sexy dance captain junior, anyway.  
  
Sehun ends up heading up to the roof to take a lunch-time nap because he doesn't like the cafeteria, too many people and hands waving in the air, voices rising and falling like hearts that beat and then don't.  
  
He dreams about falling, backwards, through glass, and landing on a leather seat. It's still sticky under his fingers. There's still a body on the sidewalk.  
  
"Are you okay?" Sehun wakes up to the sight of Minseok hovering above his face, golden brown hair haloing red in the late afternoon sun. He can feel his hands on the ends of his arms and he can't breathe through the feeling of red; holding them up away from him he tries to pretend that everything is okay.  
  
"You missed your afternoon classes," Minseok says matter-of-factly, pulling out a disposable wet wipe like the ones they have in stacks at fast food places, and gently begins to wipe Sehun's fingers.  
  
He almost gasps with relief.  
  
"I'm sorry," he manages to mumble under his breath, though he isn't really sorry, not at all. It's his way of saying thank you.  
  
Looking up at Minseok, Sehun can see tomorrow.  
  
When Minseok is done he carefully tucks the soiled wipe into its wrapper and hides it away in his sweater pocket, as they head, side by side, for the outside.  


**Author's Note:**

> also posted [here](http://betweenforever.livejournal.com/295.html)


End file.
